


Not yet - a knot

by Arzani



Series: the world in balance [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, Hair, Hair Braiding, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, OT3, Polyamory, Softness, and John is content to let them try with his hair, thomas can't braid hair but James is there to teach him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: Thomas can't braid hair and James is willing to teach him. John is content with them training on his own hair.Set in my "The world in balance" verse, but also works as a stand-alone.





	Not yet - a knot

**Author's Note:**

> Time-line is somewhere shortly after the incident with the knife in "A truly good man" where Thomas cuts his hand while trying to peel a potato.

Sunrays filtered through the windows, a golden glow from the morning light. Somewhere out there, between the trees and grass, was James working. In a few weeks winter would come, but it wasn’t here yet. The last few crops had to be brought in, as well as some remaining vegetables. Their cupboards were full, as the season had enriched them with plenty. A good thing, considering the third party that had recently entered their lives.

A small smile slipped over Thomas’ lips as he poured the hot water into the tea kettle. John was an enrichment to their lives. Yes, the start had been rough, and not all wounds were healed yet, figuratively as much as physically. But time was a good healer and since former captain and quartermaster shared a bed they smiled so much. They smiled and god, they were beautiful when they smiled.

Letting his thoughts drift lazily in the morning air, Thomas settled at the kitchen table. The tea warmed his fingers and his eyes drifted closed. He was content with his life. After so many years of loss and tragedy he felt it in every bone that they had finally found peace. Not quite yet, not completely, but with John in their house, he could see the finishing line.

A curse shook Thomas out of his daydreaming and he automatically sat a little straighter. Something clattered and then he heard a thump. Abandoning his tea, he swiftly made his way to the guest room that was currently inhabited by John. Forgoing the knocking, Thomas opened the door to find John sitting on the floor. A comb lay forgotten an inch next to him. His black curls were a mess, half mussed up, half dangling in front of his beautiful face. As he entered he was met with a frustrated expression.

“What happ-?” Thomas tried to ask but was interrupted. John’s tone was sour.

“Can you get me some scissors?”

“What do you need scissors for?” Thomas had an inkling but didn’t dare to think his thought through. He didn’t want to think his thought through.

“To get rid of those fucking curls!”

Of course he had to be right.

“No.”

“Wh-?” This time it was Thomas who interrupted John. He would not cut John’s beautiful hair. Not before he had a chance to run his hand through it and feel the soft texture for himself. Not before he could tug John’s head back by it, elicit a moan and kiss him thoroughly. Not before… not before something between them happened, and Thomas knew that would need a little bit more time. Time, he was willing to give. Time, he was willing to wait. But cutting John’s hair? That was not a matter of time, it was a matter of never.

“I’m not explaining to James why all of a sudden his lover’s gone bald.”

For a moment John just looked at him, then he shuddered and shook his head as to get rid of a mental image. “I didn’t say bald.”

Kneeling next to the other man, Thomas picked up the comb and turned it in his hand. It was smooth, made out of dark oak, with long, wide teeth. Out of the edge of his eyes he saw John fidgeting. Turning, Thomas gave the tool back softly. “I always thought you’re quite fond of your hair.”

The words hung between them, filling the silence. Thomas couldn’t hinder himself from steeling appreciative glances while waiting for an answer. John was beautiful, and he couldn’t imagine the man without his long, dark curls.

A sigh shifted the tension and with it John slumped down. Something akin to defeat filled his eyes. It made Thomas want to wrap his arms around the younger man, cradle him and protect him from whatever was tearing inside of him. But he refrained from it. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet. Not yet…

“I am. I was. Can we just cut it?”

Ocean-blue eyes met Thomas’ from behind a veil of hair and cut through him like a sharp knife. The tumult in them felt like a storm trapped behind glass.

“If you tell me the reason why you want to cut it, I might remember where I’ve put the scissors.”

Silence filled the room, again, before John answered sheepishly, almost vulnerably, “I hurts…” All the while he had turned the comb in his hands. But only when he lifted it halfway to his head, as if to demonstrate, and his face contorted in pain, Thomas understood.

John had almost died on their doorstep, the day he had appeared out of nowhere, with slashes all over his body. Not a word had left his mouth from where they came from or what had caused them, and by now Thomas had stopped asking. James had told him John didn’t speak about his past, but only until John had refused to speak about what had happened to him, had Thomas really realized what that meant. He could live with it, did live with it. But anger boiled low in his belly whenever he thought of the people who had done this to John. Who had cut him open and then left him to die. He wanted to rip them apart and watch them bleed in turn.

Maybe it was a good thing Thomas didn’t know who had hurt John. Maybe it was good he was kept from falling into the darkness that anger brought with it. He knew what it could do to people. He had seen it in the endless stories about Captain Flint and Long John Silver. It was good both those people were dead.

It didn’t lessen the simple truth that John was in pain and couldn’t comb his own hair.

“Sit on your bed,” Thomas said softly and plucked the comb back out of John’s hand. “I can’t heal your wounds, but I can comb your hair.”

“It will just muss up again,” John said weakly but did heave himself from the floor onto the soft mattress of his bed. A low chuckle left Thomas’ throat, as he sat behind the man. His fingers itched to sink into the dark curls before him, swipe them away to kiss the soft flesh of John’s neck. Not yet, he told himself. He shifted an inch closer, though, and reveled in the body heat that burned like fire on his skin. Parting the hair into two strands, he placed one aside. His fingers run through the other one, to get rid of the worst knots.

“I can braid it for you,” Thomas offered, while he worked on the curls. They were as soft as he had imagined them to be, yet full of knots and tangles. Obviously, John was an active sleeper, and who could blame him? Thomas knew of the nightmares that plagued James and he doubted John was spared either.

“Do you know how to braid hair?” John asked reluctantly, doubt heavy in his voice. It made Thomas chuckle again. The man had a point.

“How hard can it be?” he asked, placing the one half of John’s hair aside to reach for the other and repeat the process of running his fingers through the curls. “I watched Miranda plenty of times while she got her hair done.”

“That was over fifteen years ago,” John reminded, but leaned a little closer to Thomas, who took the movement as an agreement. It made him smile and he shifted to give John more space. His back was heavy on Thomas’ chest, rising and falling in tune with his breaths. It was an awkward way to brush hair, but Thomas would rather cut his arm off then made John move. It felt too peaceful, too perfect for him to mind his aching arms, as he brushed and brushed the dark locks. After what felt forever but must only be ten to fifteen minutes the comb went smoothly through the curls, all knots erased.

They had mostly been silent, and when Thomas put the comb aside he wondered if John had fallen asleep. Not that he minded. It was a rather cute image. As if John had read his mind, though, he dropped his head to his chest.

“I thought you wanted to braid them,” he murmured, voice teasing, yet laced with contend tiredness. He hadn’t fallen asleep, but he was close. Winding a curl around his finger, Thomas tugged lightly and a sound from deep within rose from John’s throat. It sent a sudden warmth to Thomas’ belly. If he wasn’t already in love with John Silver, he was definitely slowly falling for him.

“I thought you doubted my skills.”

Thomas’ voice was teasing, but the answer he got was lax and almost a whisper.

“Don’t wanna stand up.”

And if that wasn’t an invitation to move on Thomas didn’t know what. So he parted John’s hair into three equal strands, as he had seen Miranda’s maid do hundreds of times. His knowledge ended here, however, and he just held the hair loosely, wondering how he was supposed to start. Considering different options, he just placed some parts in the middle and wrapped the other loose strands around it. His hands, unused to the procedure, felt clumsy and several strands slipped off the construction. Whatever he was doing, he wasn’t doing it right. But stopping now? John felt too warm and relaxed in front of him and Thomas was too selfish to let him go just yet. It was the first time since John had come here that Thomas could really touch him. He ached to touch him. Since the incident in the kitchen when he had cut his thump, it was all Thomas could think about.

“You okay?” John mumbled, and Thomas realized he had stopped doing… whatever he was doing. Smiling, he nodded, just to realize John couldn’t see him.

“Yes, I just don’t think this is the right way to braid hair,” he admitted, and John chuckled. His whole body vibrated against Thomas’ in a very pleasant, intimate way. Before he could find any words that wouldn’t betray him they heard footsteps and a voice sounded through the walls.

“Thomas? John?”

“In here,” Thomas answered, and a moment later the door opened to reveal a sun-kissed, ginger-haired beauty. Well, at least that was what James was to Thomas. Their own seafaring half-god. “Hello darling.”

James’ eyes swept over the picture in front of him. Thomas could see how he took in his both lovers, back to chest, in casual clothes, as neither one of them had planned to go out today. Someone lesser would have scowled, be jealous even, or made a snark remark. James just smiled, and Thomas fell for him a little more. He hadn’t revealed yet what he felt for John, wanting to give them time on their own. But Thomas knew James wouldn’t mind the least. Actually Thomas was quite sure James had an inkling, because he loved them both and Thomas loved him. Them. Love revealed a lot, because trust came easy when you loved.

“Hello,” James mused and closed the door behind him as he stepped in. Thomas watched him lean down to kiss John, a sight Thomas would never tire of. They looked beautiful together, as if the world had made them to be a pair and maybe the world had. Without hesitation James repeated the intimacy with him, and Thomas savored the feeling of James’ lips on his own. Maybe the world had made James and him to be a pair, too. Maybe the world was in balance when they were, all three of them. “You look busy.”

John chuckled. “We look desperate.”

“Well, Thomas does,” James said and leaned closer to inspect the handiwork on John’s hair. His smile stretched into a grin. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“A braid.” Thomas knew it didn’t look like it and he was not even surprised when James snorted, holding the laughter back but failing.

“If you squint.”

John smacked James’ arm lightly as a response and a spark lit up the insides of Thomas’ body, igniting a fire. John defended him. Him! It shouldn’t feel as good as it did. It shouldn’t, yet Thomas couldn’t stop craving the feeling. He wanted more of it, wanted all of it.

“Don’t talk if you can’t do it better yourself,” John mocked but James didn’t rose to it. Instead he crawled next to Thomas on the bed and made himself comfortable. His tights brushed Thomas’ and to know all three of them were connected gave him goose-bumps. Sea-green eyes caught his own, and the knowing smirk revealed more than words could. James had realized what Thomas only started to grasp himself.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, but I actually can,” James stated, and lifted his hand to undo whatever it was supposed to be Thomas had done. Before he destroyed the construct, however, he stopped mid-air and looked at Thomas. “You okay with it?”

Before Thomas could answer, John snorted. “Do I have a say in it as well?”

The “no” was said simultaneously from both James and him, and Thomas erupted in laughter. His hands found John’s hair and undid the first few tangled strands, as a permission for James to go on. Not that he wanted to stop touching John’s hair, but he knew it was useless when it came to braiding. So he made room for James to take over his position. From the side he watched James smooth out the curls and then start from John’s temples. His fingers run smoothly over the scalp, beginning with little hair and using more with each careful step. Thomas watched amazed.

“You have to teach me,” he murmured, and James stopped at the words.

“I can. It’s actually not as hard. It’s like… tying a rope,” James said, which elicited a huff from John.

“I hope my hair does not look like a rope, thank you very much.”

Thomas had never been much of a sailor himself, but he knew that the braid James had miraculously created was as far from a rope as a braid could be. In fact, it looked stunning, because the hairdo accentuated John’s facial features. His blue eyes shone even brighter, without any hair hiding them. He was a sea-angel, come to live in front of him. Thomas surely was blessed.

“It doesn’t,” he murmured as James placed the strands carefully into his hands. “What do I have to do?”

Again, James shifted, until he sat behind Thomas, so he could move his hands with his own. His voice was soft in his ear. “Get a little more of the loose hair and put the outer strand between the other two.” Thomas did, his hands still clumsy, but James helped him. “Yes, like this. Now the other side, there you go. Are you okay, John?” John hummed, and Thomas kept on, pleased he was making progress.

It didn’t take long to finish the braid. James had done most of the work and it was obvious where Thomas had started, because James’ work was much tidier than his. But it was a braid and when John looked into the mirror and didn’t complain, Thomas heart melted. John looked beautiful and parts of it was his doing. He felt strangely proud of himself.

“I think you have to braid my hair tomorrow as well,” John grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. Thomas knew there was nothing he would rather do.

* * *

 

_Some months later_

“What are the flowers for?” James asked, the moment he spotted Thomas and John walk into the house, a basket full of flowers in their hands. Their eyes sparkled with mischief and deep in his gut he knew they were up to no good. When John sat on his lap, rubbing against him like a cat, he knew he was right.

“Surprise,” Thomas said, rounding the chair James was sitting in and sunk his hands into the ginger mane. Swift fingers loosened the hairband and smoothed the strands out. Something dawned on James, and he tried to stand up, but couldn’t because it would have meant throwing John on the floor and he wasn’t actually that cruel.

“No,” he demanded and immediately John pouted.

“Please?”

“No!”

“You’ll get a reward,” Thomas whispered into his ear the same moment John bit into his collarbone and a moan escaped James’ throat. It was hard to say no, when he was offered such a treat on a silver plate.

“What reward?” he asked huskily, and John chuckled, licking and kissing the spot he had just bitten.

“We’re up for suggestions,” John said and pressed his groin into James’. At that his willpower broke and his hands gripped John’s hips, thrusting up. A guttural noise reached his ear, filling him with fire. Not yet, however.

“Turn round. If I get a braid with flowers, you get one, too,” James mused and reached for a deep blue cornflower. It would suit John’s eyes. The rest could come later.


End file.
